The Peace Within
by dekw
Summary: The world is reborn, but it's a bitter place. Those who died did so in peace, but it is a peace Lucas cannot find. A depressing fic, but pretty much safe rating-wise.


Lucas was crying. Silently, slightly, and without tremor, but he couldn't help it. The body of his brother looked peaceful, accepting, and he could still hear the last of Hinawa's voice...

It was painful. They both died with such _peace_, Claus knowing his brother would go on to rebirth the world in kindness, and Hinawa knowing her sons were safe.

He felt jealous, like the crybaby he always was. He wanted such peace; he had watched his father ruin himself – in spirit – over the two losses he had endured, and now the entire world laid on him, on his unsteady hands. Each needle had caused earthquakes, tremors, and ominous clouds, as if it made the world bleed and cry and shout in anger. He wanted to do the same.

But he mustn't think such thoughts, Lucas reminded himself. His heart needed to be pure. He needed to have that peace he wanted, so that the world could be renewed. Everyone had faith in _him_, and not themselves or the others.

This needle, he thought, was for peace. For that rest that two of his family had in dead, for acceptance of everything with a calm that Lucas couldn't even imagine, now.

Clenching his teeth, he shook his head as if it would clear his thoughts completely, and pulled hard on the needle, with the psychokinetic power so aptly named love, a love that hurt now like it always had.

As the needle came from the ground, a single tear landed on the tip, and flew away with the needle as it became a column of light, arcing away into the sky.

The world shook. Colours exploded, and the laws of reality gave way. There was no sense of time, of waiting, nor of rising or falling, nor of direction. In this colourful void, the blonde-haired boy was left only with himself, his memories.

He wanted the world to be peaceful again, to grant everyone that same peace in acceptance that both his sibling and mother had held in the end. He wished it in his heart -- he had to, truly, or the world would fall because of him.

_What do you wish? _Came the question, intangibly. Lucas was unsure if it was even phrased that way, but his heart called back. _Peace_, it called. Peace, it wanted – _he_ wanted. And with that wish, sorrow tainted all. He began to sob, and the colours faded.

He had to keep strong, since the world was reforming. Stay strong for everyone, and hope for peace.

The world was carpeted in darkness. It was clear, at least to Lucas, that it would fade eventually, that the world was still being defined.

And then he realized someone was there. Someone he knew was important, possibly someone who could understand. He could feel the person's poignant feelings, the wish to help. The name came to him.

"Oh! Daniel!" He exclaimed, surprised at his own shock. "Thanks." He said, lowering his tone and smiling faintly. "I feel so utterly, incredibly thankful for everything you've done."

_I'm sorry_, was all the person on the other end, somehow separated, could say. And Lucas could not hear.

"Thanks for everything." He went on, still hopeful and filled with gratitude. "I wish we could always be together."

_So do I. _

"We just met, and now we have to say goodbye."

_But we don't... _

"All of the people of this world are saved, thanks to you."

_No, it was you! _

"Thank you, Daniel." He giggled, adding. "That was fun, Daniel!" With a childish grin.

On the other end, a boy merely clenched a doorknob. There was nothing to open, yet he so badly wanted to open the door – that door that _had_ to be there.

"Let's meet again, sometime." Now he was beginning to hesitate. "We can meet as many times as we want."

_No, let me stay... _

"Daniel! Bye!"

"What's the world there like? It looks like things will work out here..." Lucas hesitated, and choked up slightly before continuing. "but what about your world? Will it be alright?"

_I don't know. I don't know at all. _

"Hey, other world! Be good to Daniel!"

The boy on the other hand turned the doorknob in the air. Nothing happened.

"Goodbye."

"Goodbye..."

"Goodbye!"

"Thanks so much!"

_Don't thank me! _

"Come back sometime!"

_Don't let me go! _

"Thanks for everything." Again, Lucas sounded as if he was near tears.

"Daniel!!!"

"We'll meet again sometime, right? Don't forget us."

_I couldn't... _

"Goodbye."

"Thanks. We sure had a lot of fun, didn't we?"

Silence fell. The doorknob opened nothing. It should have, it had to fit _somewhere_, but... it didn't.  
"Thanks..."

_Damn it, I'm here!_

And with that, the other faded. They had said nothing, and Lucas cast his gaze downward. He couldn't cry – the darkness was lifting.

It went away. Nobody was there.

And now Lucas could see the world, and the others in it.

From a single tear had spread mist that covered the world. That hid people away, that made his tears seem to fit the world.

The ground was flat. Life seemed to have vanished. Perhaps it was a peaceful world, but it was desolate.

Was this what he wished for? Could he get peace?

Hinawa and Claus were not among the others. Lucas fell to his knees, sinking underneath the mist. This world was his fault, and he...

Had he wanted it? He didn't know.

Crying silently as ever, adding to the wet mist, Lucas crawled away from the others.

Later, Boney, faithful even after the end, would follow him, hoping to help.

And yet neither would soon return.

---

"Lucas!" Called out Flint; his son was the only one he hadn't found. He must have run; this world looked desolate enough that perhaps he had taken it upon himself.

What a fool he had to have been, thought the blonde boy's father. He knew his son, didn't he? He had been amazed by his son's newfound power, physical and spiritual alike, but he had seen his son crying slightly. He should have known the fear, and the sorrow. Perhaps...

Perhaps he had failed another son. It felt like Claus, all over again; a son running away for his personal justice...

Was Lucas ever going to come back? He had to. Flint knew that he had to. In a new world, in their hope, his only remaining son had to come back to him. Couldn't he see that this world had hope? That it was still a great thing, that still held hope?

He fell to the ground, also falling below the mists, striking the dirt beneath him.

***

A decade later.

A decade had passed. It had been ten years. A man grew old, a child grew up.

In a house in the mountains; old mountains reborn as they were, sat a blond man. This man's name was Lucas. In this house, he sat, alone, resenting the mists of the world he had created. It was a choice he had made, and he could never make it again. He had failed everyone, and left everyone with desolation. Did he want someone to find him? He remembered somebody named Daniel. A boy, who he had asked not forget him.

A boy who never responded.

Perhaps he didn't exist. Lucas didn't know. He wanted to think that he didn't care, as well, but inside he knew that he did, on some level. Outside his house, he could see through a window, blowing in the mountain winds that blew away the mists sometimes, the only thing he resented more than the obscuring mists that were his fault.

A scrap of red cloth. Hinawa had died, and that scrap was gone. It should've been. But there it was, flapping defiantly, too brazen and yet too dear to him for him to go tear down. His childhood reflected in it. A childhood of crying and failing, like he had done for the final time. A decade of bitterness he could only understand now.

---

Flint stared, wide-eyed, at the mountains that stood at the range of the finally re-established Tazmily Village. They were familiar. He had traveled them before; traveled them possibly a thousand times in search for one son, for Claus. Claus, who had died. Claus, who he had failed. Now, he had no reason to believe that Lucas would even be there...

But memories plagued him. He had never given up on Claus, even as he hurt Lucas in doing so. He couldn't give up now. Even if this was a path of his most painful memories, he could walk it again for the son that he could only hope he hadn't failed.

And so, he had left a notice, packed his items for the day, and left towards the same mountains he had never truly ceased to live in. Ten years away from them became inconsequential in the face of the same task of the past.

It never even occurred to him that he should move on, leave the worst fragments of the past world behind. All the occurred to him was the thought of the son that had escaped him for ten years.

In the mountains, he had come to something and cried. He had seen it and broken as he had when his wife's death was first told to him. There, flapping in the wind, was a single scrap of red cloth.

Again, like so long ago, he took it down from the tree it hung by. Nearby, there was a house. A house he knew he had to visit. There was a window, but it had been blocked, now.

As he approached the house, he realized there was a grave in front of it. _Boney_, it read, and nothing else.

Yet again, loss hit the older man. It made sense that Boney would be dead; he was simply old, for a dog, but he hadn't been there to know or feel the loss, until now.

With a deep sigh, he entered the house, uninvited.

Lucas was there.

There was no doubt about it. The blonde man was his son; still wearing a worn out striped shirt now too small for him, with dirty hair that still remained upright in the strangest of manners. But instead of any expression that Flint had known, there was only shame and resentment on his son's face.

"Lucas..." he said, dropping off into silence. All his life since the recreation of the world, this had been his goal, and now he didn't know what to do. "Son."

"Dad." Said Lucas, without emotion. He was looking away, looking at a closed window.

"I know you think that you failed, Lucas..." Flint said, walking up to the blonde man. "But Tazmily's back. We're still living on. You did well."

"Dad." Repeated the blonde, in the same blank tone. "There's... no peace."

"Son..." Repeated Flint. "We're all waiting for you. We can have peace back together."

"You have to go. You can't find peace with me. Live out your own life."

Flint approached him, and Lucas raised a hand. At the end of it shone a bright hexagon of psychic energy, so aptly named love.

Grudgingly, the older man backed off. What choice did he have? To accept another blow from PK Love was to repeat a moment of the past of a son that he had failed. A moment that had probably scarred Lucas even more deeply.

Without word, Flint turned away and left.

In his wake, Lucas re-opened the window. The red scrap of cloth, the one that had to belong to his mother, was gone.

Perhaps it was suiting that it was.

---

The door opened again. This time there were three. Lucas' father stood in the back, but the two who were in front were also painfully familiar. Duster and Kumatora, they were named. They had been with Lucas right up to the completion of his failure. They were probably here to help comfort him, to assure him that he had only helped in the end.

But that wasn't the point. It couldn't be helped. Lucas had probably only destroyed the peace he hoped for. He hadn't achieved it himself, and the fact that these people came to him after a decade of searching was simply a reminder that they couldn't have achieved it either. He didn't want to live in this world; he wanted to be able to fade away happily, like his mother and his brother.

He knew he would never have that opportunity. "C'mon, Lucas." Asserted Kumatora, her voice as insistent and strong as ever. "You don't have to stay like this, you know." She paused, walking up to him, and stopped as he stiffened up. There was a pretence of anger, almost hate there, that the Lucas she had known had never possessed.

"You don't get it." He said, shaking. "I wanted peace. I didn't mean to ask for it. But mom and Claus went, and they were happy... happy for my sake."

"And we can be too, Lucas." She asserted, slightly doubtful. "You can be, with us."

"No I can't!" He shouted back. "This is my fault. I can't have that peace, not in this creation! I can't rest while this world exists..." His voice cracked, and he began to cry. "I'm living where mom died. I made the new world where Claus died."

"Lucas..." Said Duster, the quieter of his two old companions. He said nothing, just looking down at his limp leg. Lucas could tell the meaning of the cursory glance, a symbolic little gesture; just because one had a constant reminder of a failure didn't have to mean it dragged them down.

But it was futile. Once again, Lucas looked a way, raising a hand of psychokinetic love.

The three backed off, regretfully but cautiously – and it occurred to Lucas that he wasn't sure any more of the difference between PK love and love not borne of PSI.

Maybe, to him, there wasn't a difference.

And so they left, and so he sat there, once again letting time pass. Perhaps the others could be happier without him. Perhaps they would keep trying, and he would have to drive the point home many many times.

Still, there had to be somebody out there. Someone who understood; the one who he had to thank for everything good, or so he thought.

The one he couldn't speak to, but had felt there. He needed that person, didn't he? The one who had to understand, who had to be able to help.

Somehow, he knew that person was one door away. His name was Daniel; maybe he was here again. Lucas wasn't sure of his feelings anymore.

And on the other side of a monitor, of a computer screen, a boy ran a single finger down it, as if he could touch what lay within. Lucas was there. Lucas, in the future. Lucas, to blame, as he saw for himself. Lucas, the failure.

Lucas, the one who needed help.

"Damn it, let me in..." Said the boy. "Let me in!" he shouted. "I could stay! _I CAN HELP!_"

And with that, I hurled the doorknob at the screen, denting one and shattering the other.

I'll never know if it was enough.


End file.
